


there's a hand, my trusty friend

by theonlytwin



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 07:51:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlytwin/pseuds/theonlytwin
Summary: Everyone he knew in Alaska has been questioned by every law enforcement agency that could be bothered to send someone up there. He’s seen the transcripts, on screens Otacon pointed his way - “She says you couldn’t organise a terrorist plot because you always paid your grocery bills on time - that’s nice!”(New Year's Day with Hal and Dave - based on a random factoid I read in some zine.)





	there's a hand, my trusty friend

Dave wakes up when it’s still dark. It’s the middle of winter in a small town West Virginia, it’s often dark - not dark in the way of Alaska, not true dark. There’s always halogen street lights and LED Christmas lights, high beam headlights and traffic lights flickering through the night. 

It’s not true dark, but it’s dark enough to make him miss Iditarod.

Everyone he knew in Alaska has been questioned by every law enforcement agency that could be bothered to send someone up there. He’s seen the transcripts, on screens Otacon pointed his way - “She says you couldn’t organise a terrorist plot because you always paid your grocery bills on time - that’s nice!”

He misses the dark, and the quiet, and his dogs. He’s probably never going to have that again - certainly not any time soon. 

Which isn’t to say there aren’t good things about his life now. 

He rolls out of bed, heads to the kitchen to start on breakfast. Coffee and porridge is their standard, now.

This apartment is well insulated but the heating is garbage, so they wear socks and slippers, shuffling around like retirees instead of fugitives from the government.

It’s been six weeks since the Discovery sank, and they’ve spent every day either travelling or getting data, trying to shore up their resources. Hal dyed his hair, Dave cut his, they’re using shitty credit cards and mysterious cash reservoirs Hal keeps coughing up.

They’ve been in this place nearly two weeks, which means they’ll have to move again soon.

He puts the porridge and coffee into big mugs. They eat everything out of big mugs, now. So much like retirees Dave is thinking of trying out bingo.

When he clicks the mugs down on the hardcase they’re using as a bedside table, Hal blinks, murmurs, “Mmm?” 

“Breakfast.”

“Thanks.” He sits up, rubbing his eyes, blanket gathering around his waist. Dave hands him coffee. “Happy new year, too.”

Hal’s kinda Jewish - like, his dad was, but not in the observant way. Dave’s not anything. They ate at a Chinese restaurant on Christmas day, but now it’s the first day of the year.

Dave stirs his porridge. “It’s my birthday.”  
“Oh!” Hal is genuinely surprised. It’s a crapshoot, what Hal has and hasn’t scraped from his heavily scrubbed records. “Happy birthday? Oh, I didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s not why I told you.” Hal tips his head. “I didn’t get anything for yours, either.” 

Hal laughs, shrugs. “You were on a mission! You got me the schematics of a drone prototype, that was a pretty great gift!”

Dave has, suddenly, too much blood in his face. “Eat before it gets cold.”

They eat, side by side, flat pillows tucked behind their backs. Hal’s looking at some document on a tablet. Dave half heartedly turns the pages of a collection of Brecht’s letters he found three towns ago in a second hand store. Hal finishes his porridge and puts his mug to the side.

“We could get you a cake.”

“I don’t want a cake.”

“We should do something. It’s your birthday! It’s important.”

Dave shakes his head. “It’s not.”

“Then why did you tell me?” Hal asks, like he’s caught Dave out.

He rubs his jaw. “Hmm. No one knows my birthday. I don’t even know if it - is. It doesn’t matter. This is the date on my birth certificate, and it’s when I had a cake when I was a kid. I don’t like cake. I just - I want to tell you things. That’s what partners do.” 

Hal reaches up, with a hand warm from his coffee. He cups Dave’s cheek, smiles. “Thank you.”

Dave can’t not kiss him. Hal’s hand slides up to Dave’s ear, scratches through his hair, kisses warmly. 

“You know,” Dave mutters against Hal’s cheek, “we haven’t had sex all year.”

Hal starts laughing, shaking against him.

“What?” Dave asks.

“You’re so lame! You’re the most amazing movie star badass in the world, probably the coolest person to ever exist, and you have the worst pick up lines on the planet!”

Dave slithers down the bed, pokes Hal in the ribs. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was bad.” Hal counters, patting Dave on the head. “We can have sex anyway. It’s your birthday.”

“Nah,” Dave rolls over, half joking. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Hey, no, I’m sorry. I’d have sex with you even if it wasn’t your birthday,” Hal says, shuffling down to lie behind him, tucking his arm around Dave’s chest. “I mean. Um.”

Dave huffs, puts his hand over Hal’s. “Maybe later,” he says, “I kind of want to do nothing, for a minute.”

“I can do that,” Hal tells him, and kisses the back of his neck.

Dave takes a deep breath, and lies there, watching the sky lighten slowly beyond the window.


End file.
